Ropes
by Pam Marks
Summary: He walks to school with the lunch he packed nobody knows what he's holding back. He hides the bruises with the lien, and grace. The teacher wonders, but she doesn't ask. It's hard to see the pain behind the mask. Baring the burden of a secret storm...


The Dawson's Creek characters belong to the creative team of Kevin Williamson, Paul Stupin, and company. Not me...sadly enough.

This story came to me after watching the second season finale on my box set tonight. I've always been intrigued with Pacey, and John Witter's relationship, this is just one way it could have been. It has abuse in it, and while not all that graphic it's still abuse so you have been warned. I hope you enjoy it.

**Ropes**

The ropes cut into his arms burning the tender flesh underneath. Gritting his teethe around the bandana tied around his mouth, he frilled against them knowing it was useless. It was always useless to fight.

Turning over onto his side, he inhaled some dust off the musky floor, and stared up between the cracks in the attic ventilation window. It was a bright sunny day in Capeside. The birds were chirping, and he could hear the faint whistle of a breeze sweep against the side of the house. He wondered if anyone missed him at school. If anyone was going to notice he was not there. Probably not, and if they did they would assume he was laying out. Like always. He was after all the failure, the class clown, the town joke, doomed to lose, to work at some fast food joint for the rest of his life after graduation, his dad's punching bag, and...Jerking out of the thought before it had time to process, he rolled over onto his other side, still trying to loosen the tight ropes tied around his elbows, and knees. His dad knew better then to tie them around his wrists, and ankles. To many risks evolved there. What if his shirt, and jeans rolled up? There would be questions, and they couldn't have that.

He didn't remember when it had all began. It seemed it had been going on for as long as he had been breathing. First it had been words. Hurtful, spiteful words flung at an innocent child that would tare at him like daggers, cutting away a piece of his heart every time his dad tossed them his way. No one noticed the bruises he bore when the hitting had begun. He didn't want anyone to notice. He was ashamed of them. Ashamed of himself for getting them, for letting him give them to him. He let his grades slip ever so slowly, and adopted the screw up persona he bore so well to guard his most precious secret. For who would look beyond the mask of a clown screw up?

Shutting his eyes, he let a cold shiver run down his spine when he thought of it. He didn't think of it very often, but it haunted his dreams non-the less making him wake in cold sweats screaming for anyone to help him. His mom would come into his room some nights when she would hear him pleading, screaming, and soothe him. She would tell him dreams couldn't hurt him. Dreams couldn't hurt him, but he could, and always would.

Tears began to shimmer in his unguarded orbs when he thought of his mother. She had come face to face with what he was doing many times in the past, and she only stood by letting him hurt him, while she had a drink, or walked away.

_Pacey gave off a sob of terror when his dad grabbed him off the unforgiving floor twisting his arm violently behind his back. His dad's bulky arm wrapped around his neck in a choking manner pulling him back against his rock hard chest, his hot breath whispering past his ear. Tears began to fall more rapidly down his flushed cheeks, silently begging his father not to snap his arm in two. His knees grew wobbly from the horror surging through his veins, his hand desperately clawing at his fathers arm trying vainly to get it to release the strangle hold it had around his neck "Now tell me why I am getting calls from your principal that you skipped school, tried to hitch hike, and then skipped out on your punishment with one Joey Potter?" _

_"I...I..." Pacey stammered out in complete terror of the man twisting his arm. _

_Gritting his teethe Pacey let out a deep howl bending his knee's to keep them from buckling underneath him from the escheating pain that was unleashed on his body when his dad pulled his arm up his back a little "No, on second thought don't speak. I can't stand to hear your rotten voice right now. It will only make me angrier, and that will be bad for you." _

_Letting a whimper of agony escape at the pain surging through his arm, and what his dad had in store for him, he let his head lull to the side in utter defeat. Gasping, his heart leapt out of his chest when he saw his mom clutching the doorway with one hand, and her soaked raincoat with the other. Tears were rushing down her ashen face to fast to catch, her eyes pools of utter despair. _

_"Mom." Pacey called hoarsely, trying to jerk out of his fathers hold weekly trying to reach her trembling form. _

_"Shut up!" Letting another howl escape him when his arm was pulled more, Pacey shook his head desperately at his father pleading with him to not break it. _

_"Don't piss me off anymore then I already am Pacey! When I say shut up I mean shut up! Listen to me! Obey me!" Sobbing at the hard tug of his arm, knowing it could not take much more he nodded firmly. _

_"Such a waste! You were a mistake! We stopped having kids after Doug! All we wanted was a son, and we got him! We didn't ask for you! I didn't even know if you were mine when your mother found out she was pregnant! Your mother was sleeping around on me with our best friend from high school when she got pregnant with you! Should have known what you would turn out to be right then! I found out about your mother's sleeping around, and left! She found me, and one time of angry passion you were conceived! You should have never been born to be a plight on this family!" Letting out a cry of anguish at his dad's harshly spat words that were like nails driven into his heart he looked back to the doorway pleadingly. A whimper of complete hopelessness escaped his chapped lips when his mom was gone from the frame. Never taking his defeated eyes from the doorway he let his dad pull him across the hard wood floor to the worn out couch._

Tears streamed down his lightly flushed cheeks trailing down his neck to the musky attic floor. This was the life he was doomed to. These were his secrets that he guarded from any outsider, even those he cherished. God, he had tried to tell Andie so many times when they had dated, but the words had simply not formed in his mouth. The years of keeping his secret in the deepest darkest recesses of his mind strangled him, and had simply made him take her in his rope burned arms, plaster a smile on his face pretending everything was all right time after time. Then she had gotten sick, and everything changed. She had needed him so he had sealed away all his agony from his dad's rough treatment, and concentrated on being her hero, her steady rock.

After she left to get the help she so desperately needed, he had thought he was going to go insane right along with her. The secret he bore burned him, making him ache for the shelter that Andie had given him. He became cold, distant, and uncaring. He began to scream at his father in hot-blooded rage, and get "calmed down" brutally. His dad had even went as far as to deliver a crippling smack to his face in front of the Icehouse when his friends had been right inside.

After the crippling fire burned the Icehouse from the inside out it had come to a head. All he remembered was his dad going on about Andie, and how it was his time of the month then nothing. Nothing, but blood red ooze clouded his vision making him see nothing through the haze it caused. When the fog cleared there was blood trickling down his dad's chin, and his fist curled up nails digging into his palm roughly. He had disappeared after the confrontation terrified that his dad would kill him. When his dad had found him, he had never been more terrified of him in his life then he had been at the moment he had seen him walking up to him on the peer.

He had put on his best angry act when his dad had uncharacteristically done his best at apologizing, and had tried to walk away from the whole thing. That was until his dad used the voice on him, the do as I say, or I'll make you do as I say voice, and it had frozen him in mid step. He had then listened to his dad rehash his conversation he had, had with Andie earlier, saying for as much as he didn't know her; he didn't know his own son even more. He had wanted to scream at him. Wanted to yell him whose fault that was, but had remained quiet, scared of the unfamiliar situation. Scared that he would wake up, and his dad would be standing over him mincing scrawl on his face. In some ways he had wanted to wake up, then his dad wrapped his bulky arms around him. It had shattered, and turned his world on its hilt. The arms that had hurt him now were comforting him, and in would fowl swoop, he crashed. The tears came, and he had melted into his dad's embrace, whimpering.

He should have known better then to hope that his dad would stop after that night. It was an utterly foolish notion that had gotten shattered into a billion pieces. His dad had lain off him for a few days, but then had come back with vengeance. He had come in from briefly checking in on Joey in the earlier days of summer, and hadn't even gotten two steps past the living room. He could still feel the pain in his arms from where he had been forced to his knees by his dad, when his dad had held them up behind his back at odd angles. His father had been relentless, and merciless that night.

Afterwards he had spent three days in bed recovering after his dad's attack that dreary night. Ducking Jen, and Joey the next few weeks while his noticeable injuries had healed had been to easy. Jen, and he didn't know each other well, and therefore she never came around, or called. Joey would occasionally call, and leave bored messages on the machine asking him to come around, or call her if he could possibly pull himself out of his depression long enough to join another member of the depressed club. He would sometimes call her back when she sounded really down, and have small sparing matches with her, but that was the extent of his contact with the two.

He had remained in hermit status afterwards not wanting to draw any attention to himself from Joey, and Jen for suddenly coming out of his depressed state with no reason. Being forced to stay around the house in his self-induced isolation made his father take full advantage of the situation. In the lapse of time between his isolation, and school starting back John Witter had regained full dominant control over him.

Seeing his friends on the first day of school after being locked up with his dad for so long was like coming out of the mouth of hell. He had felt like falling at Dawson's feet, and begging him not to leave him again, ever. Andie was released a couple of days afterwards, and had come home to him. He was glad that Andie had given him a clear way out of their relationship. If she hadn't, he would have found one. He had over reacted to her mistake on purpose. It was one mistake, and he could have gotten over it. His love for her had been strong enough to survive it. They could have worked past it, and repaired it. He hadn't been lying to her when he had told her so many times that she had been the best thing that had ever happened to him. The fact of the matter was she was to smart. Now that she had herself figured out, she would start focusing on people around her, on him, and he wasn't strong enough to fight for her against his father. He had tried, and failed. She hadn't failed him over the summer; he had failed her in the worse way possible.

The phone ringing down stairs snapped his head up from the dirty floor. Looking towards the attic door curiously, he perched his ears straining to hear the click of the answering machine pick up "Pacey where are you? You already got in trouble for skipping once, and dragged me down with you, might I add. I think you owed it to me to be here today Pace, and for the rest of your life. I expect a good excuse tomorrow like your head was falling off, because if not then I will chop it off. Later jailbait."

Small smile lighting his clouded face, he laid his head back down. Joey Potter. The more he got to know her, the more he was intrigued by her. Dawson was some kind of fool for letting a Goddess like Joey Potter walk out of his life so easily for a dime a dozen slut like Eve. Sure, he had pressured Dawson into perusing Eve, but he had never thought he would crush Joey to do it, and then leave him to pick up the pieces.

He didn't know how great he could be at picking up the pieces of anything. He was a mess. His whole life was a mess, from having to let Andie go, to being his dad's toy, but he seemed to be doing all right with Joey. Three days ago he had convinced the golden Ms. Potter to skip with him out to his boat to give it its name. It hadn't worked out the way he had planned, and had landed them in principal Green's office the next day. After getting them out of their lenient punishment, by swindling some freshmen with stories of glorious popularity if they dressed up as the horse at the first football game of the year, they had snuck away to their previous skip day destination. True Love was there boat now, always, and forever. It was what he had told her when she had been there for the naming. Anyone who is there for the naming of a boat is connected to the vassal itself forever, and then he had followed it up with the fact that she had missed a spot with the sander.

He hadn't missed the smile that had crept across her face at his declaration of True Love being there's. She needed something to work on. Something to take her mind of things that she didn't want, or need to think about just as he did. She needed something to restore, something to make beautiful, something to shape, something mold, True Love was that something, and he had given it to her.

Shifting uncomfortably on the rusticate floor, he swallowed the giant lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. He, and Joey were going to be spending a lot of time restoring True Love. If she ever found out how bad his dad really treated him, would she think it was his fought? Would she turn away from him in degust? She was the closet one to knowing just how bad his dad really was after all. Sure Dawson, and Jack had gotten an up close, and personal glimpse of John, and Pacey Witter's relationship on the infamous fishing trip, but Joey had gotten a small glimpse of the dark place in the depths of his soul when he had told her of the bitter words his dad had spoken to his brother after a little league game. The poring look that had crept into her eyes after the declaration had sent icy chills down his spine. It was as if she was trying to gain access to his soul, trying to see how deep the wounds went. Shutting her out right then had been the hardest thing he had ever done.

He had always wondered though, what if he hadn't shut her out? What if she had asked the right questions? What would have happened if she had lifted his shirt to see the wasteland of abuse his dad had inflicted upon him? What if she had gone home with him that night after they had gotten back from the prison to see John Witter, police chief crush his son's head against the wall repeatedly? What if?

His thoughts froze in his mind, when he heard the thunder of footfalls bombard up the attic steps. Curling in on himself, he prayed to any higher power that was up there to protect him.


End file.
